"
"Well! then you have had your answer, have you not?"
"Yes," he replied slowly; "but the answer has become weaker day by
day."
"Weaker? I don't understand."
"Let me explain, Lady Blakeney," said Chauvelin, now with measured
emphasis. He put both elbows on the table and leaned well
forward, peering into her face, lest one of its varied expressions
escaped him. "Just now you taunted me with my failure in Calais,
and again at Boulogne, with a proud toss of the head, which I own
is excessive becoming; you threw the name of the Scarlet Pimpernel
in my face like a challenge which I no longer dare to accept.
'The Scarlet Pimpernel,' you would say to me, 'stands for loyalty,
for honour, and for indomitable courage. Think you he would
sacrifice his honour to obtain your mercy? Remember Boulogne and
your discomfiture!' All of which, dear lady, is perfectly
charming and womanly and enthusiastic, and I, bowing my humble
head, must own that I was fooled in Calais and baffled in
Boulogne. But in Boulogne I made a grave mistake, and one from
which I learned a lesson, which I am putting into practice now."
He paused a while as if waiting for her reply. His pale, keen
eyes had already noted that with every phrase he uttered the lines
in her beautiful face became more hard and set.
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